


Honest

by MermaidsandMermen (SophiaSoames)



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Addiction, Angst and Feels, Dark fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Nobody dies in this fic, Promise, There will be a guaranteed Evak endgame and Hea., there will be hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 08:00:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15636543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophiaSoames/pseuds/MermaidsandMermen
Summary: A short story inspired by the haunting art by Memine, @meonlymine on Tumblr, created for the Skam Reverse Big Bang.A story of hurt and comfort, and losing your way in the world when the only thing you need is right there infront of you. A story of longing and love. Of honesty, truths and...... magic socks.Welcome to Honest.





	1. Before

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Memine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Memine/gifts).



> I hope you have been enjoying this week's fic fest that is the Skam Reverse Big Bang! I can't believe the amount of amazing gorgeous stories and the immense talent this fandom harbors! This time around alot of the art submitted was very dark, and it was a huge challenge to take on something I had no idea how I would use, but this artwork spoke to me and, well, it took a while to get the story right in my head but here it is. I hope you like it. 
> 
> A huge thank you to @jules1398 who organizes and runs the SKAM BIG BANG blog on tumblr. Go follow it for all the artwork and links to all the fics. I am forever grateful for you organizing these challenges, because they are just the most fun you can have (with your clothes on). 
> 
> Kudos in droves to Memine @meonlymine for creating something so hauntingly beautiful that it inspired us all to think outside the box and challenged me to write something completly out of my fluffy Evak OCC comfort zone. Thank you. I hope you like what I created. 
> 
> Finally. Evak4Ever, Pagnilagni and Bewa. Thank you for reading, Reading again. Shouting at me. Calling me out on my Harlequin romance crap. Shouting a bit more. I needed it, so thank you. I would not have completed this without your expert help in tweaking, messing with my overuse of commas, copy-pasting segments around and completly trashing my attempt at smut. You were all right. Always. And I am grateful, humbled and in awe of your awesomeness. 
> 
> And this is tagged Teen and up. WTF? What have you all done to me?
> 
> If you have survived reading this far. Thank you. I sincerley hope you enjoy the story. All the love, Always. S x

_ There’s a boy on the bridge, sitting on the railing with his legs dangling over the freezing water. The freezing water that is roaring and hurling down on the the ice covered rocks below. Even in the dusky light from the streetlights, Isak can see him clearly, sat there like it’s nothing. Like it’s normal.  _

 

_ Normal. Well, there is nothing normal about walking around Sagene Park late at night when the temperature is well below freezing and the clouds keep threatening to dump snow again. It’s just that Isak doesn't want to go home yet. It’s not safe to go home yet. Too early, with too much of a chance that Isak will get caught in the neverending line of fire.  _

 

_ He has a couple of tins of beer that he shoplifted earlier stuck in the bottom of his backpack. Not nearly enough to dull out the sounds of his fucked up home life, but enough to keep him warm whilst he waits. Just mellow him out a little, and make him brave enough to face the mess that is his life. Maybe tonight he will sleep. Maybe tonight will be different. Well who is he kidding, it never changes. This is the way his life is.  _

 

_ The boy still shouldn't be on the bridge. It’s dangerous. Reckless. Just one little slip and he will hurtle towards the sharp icy rocks below. Not that Isak should interfere, because Isak is not brave. He’s nothing. Nothing at all to anyone. Worthless, as his father keeps reminding him.  _

 

_ “Do you think it’s worth it?” The boy says to noone in particular. Speaking out into the frosty air, his breath white against the black winter night. “Is it worth it when nothing ever gets better?” he continues.  _

 

_ He must know someone is there, the icy crunch of Isak’s footsteps loud against the frozen ground. _

 

_ “I don’t know.” Isak replies. He’s surprised he even speaks. “I don’t have any answers.“ _

 

_ “I just want to love someone. I want someone to belong to me like I belong to them. I just want to be loved. Instead I am apparently weird and controlling. I look after someone, and love them with all I have got, and they end up hating me. I just don’t understand. It’s so bloody confusing.” _

 

_ “At least you care? That is better than not caring at all.“ _

 

_ He leans carefully against the railings, keeping his distance. He doesn't want to spook the boy. Or man? Boy, Isak decides. He looks about Isak’s age, dressed in his skinny jeans and his jacket wide open. He must be frozen to the bone, his cheeks flushed red and his hair full of frosty stars.  _

 

_ “It wasn’t enough. It was too much. Do you think you can love someone too much?”  _

 

_ “I don’t know. But I know what it’s like not to be loved at all, and that sucks. At least you loved someone. It makes you a good person. A good person who loved someone a lot.” _

 

_ Isak is talking out of his arse, but he needs this boy to be calm. To keep talking. To get his legs back on the right side of the railings. _

 

_ “Life is fucked up.” The boy mutters and throws something into the water below. Maybe a butt of a burnt out cigarette. Maybe something else. Isak doesn't care as long as the boy is still there.  _

 

_ “Life is worth it. You have to live, and do something worthwhile. Be a good person. I like to think that I will grow up and become a good person. I’d like that.” _

 

_ “I think you are a good person.” The boy says quietly. Like he is contemplating the fact, when he hasn't even looked at Isak once.  _

 

_ “I think you are a good person, too.” Isak replies, taking a careful step to the side, letting himself get a little closer. Closer so he can reach. Maybe catch him if he falls. Hoping he could save him if he did. Maybe.  _

 

_ “Do you like ice cream?” the boy says, suddenly swinging his legs over the side and landing hard on the bridge, his breath a cloud of white in Isaks line of vision.  _

 

_ His eyes are blue. They’re so fucking blue.  _

 

_ “I’ve got beer?” Isak tries.  _

 

_ “I don’t drink much”, the boy says. “I’m fucked in the head and it messes with my meds, but I like ice cream. Do you want to come home with me and eat ice cream? Lie on the floor and listen to music that makes you feel something? I just want to feel something. Something real.” _

 

_ “I like ice cream”, Isak says. With conviction. He couldn’t care less about the ice cream as long as the boy is here. This boy. This ridiculous boy wearing his jacket open with snowflakes landing in his messy mop of hair and there is a hole in his glove. Over his thumb.  _

 

_ “Come on then.” the boy says.  _

 

 _And Isak follows._ _He follows Even for years. Years and years until he breaks._

  
  
  



	2. Then

“I love you”, he slurs.

Isak always does this. It doesn’t make it easier on him that he knows what he is doing. That he knows exactly what he is doing.

“I love you and everything hurts. I love you and I want to be where you are. I don’t want to be here on my own.”

He knows he is mumbling into the hood of his winter jacket. Slurring and sniffling into his mobile phone that is somewhere up near his head. He thinks. He is actually not quite sure right now as he plonks himself down on the steps. Well he kind of falls. Ungraciously and clumsily as his feet slips from under his body and his arse hits the ice a little harder than he had anticipated.

“I love you, Even.” He can feel the tears now. They always come in on cue around this time. The time when Isak decides that walking is overrated, and he is just going to sit here in the snow and let the cold claim him. It kind of seems romantic in his fucked-up head when he is drunk like this. Like he can just sit here until he sobers up enough or dies of frostbite. Whatever.

“Isak, Kristina is asleep, and she will be mighty pissed off if I wake her up.”

He can hear Even moving around. Grabbing random clothes. Snorting into the receiver of the phone over something.

“I don’t want to be like this.” Isak mumbles and lies back in the snow. “I don’t want to be doing this anymore.”

“I know”, Even says softly. Soothing. He has no right to Even’s sympathy. He has no claim on Even’s kindness. He knows. He knows this has gone too far. Gone on too long.

“I wish I knew how to stop. How not to be this arsehole that is ruining your life.” Isak is surprised how steady his voice sounds. How determined he is getting the words out.

“I’m going to hang up on you now, Isak”, Even sighs.  
“I’m sorry”, Isak whispers.

 

He is. He is truly sorry.

 

It’s not like his life was horrible. It’s just not what he had imagined. It’s nothing like he had planned.  
He had a best friend. He had purpose. He had the job he always wanted. Yet here he is, lying flat on his back letting the snowflakes land randomly on his face. He doesn’t even wince when the cold wet snow hits his skin.

The drinking became a problem. Well, who is he kidding. Everything was already a problem. The crap Isak put in his body. The lying. The hiding. The crying and longing. It was a cycle. A never-ending cycle of hell. A fucked-up dance they kept dancing. 

Even says they are family. That they are a unit. Two people with a bond that cannot be broken.

He is blatantly lying right there in Isak’s face, Isak knows that.

 

They have been friends for years. Years of laughter and love and yearning and touches. Isak wouldn’t change a thing. Except himself. If he had been a stronger person, he wouldn’t keep doing this. Going around and round. Back to the start. Over and over.

He had always known Even was Even. The first months of their friendship had taught Isak the hard way, how Even lived, and how he functioned. Isak had followed him around in a constant state of panic that Even would slip without Isak there to catch him. It had just been so subtle. Crept up on him without him even noticing at first.

He had fucked up so many times when he hadn’t seen it coming. Ended up in some ridiculous situations when Even got some of his not so fantastic ideas. When he had been so hyped up that Isak couldn’t talk him down. Then he had spent days lying in Even’s bed with his arms tight around him, talking to him until he couldn’t speak anymore. Promising him the world. Because Isak had never met anyone like Even before.

 

When they were good, when Even was good, their friendship was solid. They were just two mates who hung out. Texted. Had fun. Even had girlfriends. Lots of girlfriends that kept him busy at the weekends. There was always some girl, someone who Even declared was the love of his life. It rarely lasted long until Even wasn’t the Even they thought he was and things got messy.

Sometimes they hung around. Sometimes they tried to understand, then Isak would end up on the sofa with his arms around a heartbroken girl who didn’t understand why Even didn’t want her there. Why they were never enough. Why they couldn’t ever be what Even needed.

When things got bad there was only Isak. Isak was the only one Even wanted when he couldn’t cope anymore.

And Isak would do what he needed to do. They both knew the routine.

 

He would ring up and cancel his work shifts, drawing sighs from his supervisor. They knew. They knew he had no choice. He would work from home as much as he could, finishing his coursework and papers. He should have been fully qualified by now, but the long absences and the gaps in his assignments were never going to be easily filled. He could do it, he knew he should. But Even came first. He always had, always would.

It was messy. It was horrible at times, but it was worth it. Everything was worth it when Isak was sweaty and exhausted and bare and mostly naked in Even’s bed with his skin against Even’s skin. It wasn’t sex. It wasn’t even hooking up in the loosest form of the word.

It was the sheer panic of not being alone. Of not being able to cope. When the thoughts in Even’s head were too much to bear.

Even would cling to Isak for hours. For days. Weeks. Until his body would slowly piece itself back together and he would slip away. Get up in the morning and butter his own bread instead of waiting for Isak to cut his food into tiny little squares that he would slip between his lips. He would shower and change the sheets. Get dressed. Power up his laptop in the morning and get back to working.

Whilst Isak would wake up alone and bewildered and realize that things were back to normal. That he was not needed anymore.

 

Then he would stick his key in the door after his shift and instead of silence and the low buzz of the TV, there would be voices and laughter of friends. Another female companion. Sometimes someone would be back, but mostly they would be new, and Even would wrap his arms around him and introduce Isak like this was normal. Like Isak was just a friend.

It’s how the cycle would close. Isak would discreetly pack up his things and wipe down the sink. Move his toothbrush back into the cupboard for the next time. Fish out his dirty clothes from the basket where they lay entwined with Even’s. Subtly and quietly unfolding the layers of their lives until there was just Isak standing on the doorstep with Even’s laughter ringing in his ears. His breath still on his skin. The words clinging to his lips as he had said them.

“I love you”, he would say quietly into Even’s neck whilst Even’s arms were moving over his back. Strong and solid strokes over his shoulder blades, moving down in circles until his hands were on the small of his back. Fingertips gracing the top of his jeans.

“I love you too, Isak. You must know that. I love you so damn much.” Even would whisper. Holding onto him. Then he would let Isak go. Smile at him as he closed the door to his flat leaving Isak out in the cold with the question burning on his lips. “If you love me so much then why are you letting me go?”

There was never an answer. Well Isak kind of knows. The truth is just not that easy to bear.


	3. Life

Minutes blur into hours, days into weeks. His life is a constant of confusion, his only motivation a mind boggling need to dull everything out. Make life a downhill slope from grey tones into darkness. He welcomes it like an old friend, the lull into the unconsciousness where a very small part of him questions if this will be the time when it will end. When he just won’t wake up again. Because Isak isn’t picky when it comes to getting what he wants. Alcohol. Drugs. Glue. Pills. Spice, even grass. Whatever is up for offer, whoever has it and is willing to share, Isak will follow like a man possessed.

It’s not who he is. He was never a risk-taker, always calculating, always scared of his own shadow. He still doesn't, but he is desperate, and there is really nothing left to protect.

 

The thing is he doesn’t even fear it anymore, the inevitable end of the life of Isak Valtersen.

 

Yet once again his head is pounding like the front of an icebreaker trying to open a channel into his awake state, and to be honest - Isak would rather die. The bright lights above his face are making his eyes scrunch up and it hurts. Well everything hurts. Every fucking cell in his body is screaming out in pain and panic.

Yeah, and it doesn’t take much to figure out where he is, the familiar smell of disinfectant overpowering everything else, the course paper pillowcase encrusted with his own foul smelling drool. Police custody. Probably for his own safety again, since he doesn’t quite remember where he fell asleep last night. Apart from that his jeans are still damp and the cheap flannel Oslo Police constabulary printed blanket around his shoulders is nowhere near warm enough.

He curls into himself hoping that sleep will once again claim him. That he can just drift away until he miraculously wakes up somewhere else. Preferably as someone else. Because there is nothing left of Isak Valtersen that he cares to remember. Just a broken shell of someone who once mattered. Someone who actually went to work instead of claiming to be sick when in reality he is just constantly drunk, high or trying to get there.

He has no idea of time. How long he has been doing this, all he knows it that it hurts. Everything hurts.

He hasn’t seen Even for a long time, and the sheer thought of that sends him into constant bouts of panic. The idea that he could be unwell and need him, alone in his bed fighting his demons without Isak there to hold him and talk him down. Not that Isak would be any help in his current state, but there is just nothing he can do about it right now. Apart that he is broken. Broken and wasted and barely human anymore.

Human beings wash themselves. Human beings get up in the morning and pay their rent and eat proper food and live their lives. Isak is barely human because he does neither of those things anymore, the eviction notice on his door screaming loudly in his face every time he sticks his key in the front door lock.

“Valtersen!”

Isak just grunts. He doesn’t care who this is. He knows the drill of the Police custody for drunkards. They will look him over, ensure that he can stand up, get him to zip up his coat and send him out in the cold bright winter’s day hoping he will stay out of trouble long enough that they won’t have to deal with him again. Well he assumes it is still winter. His memory plays tricks on him sometimes. He remembers snow. He remembers lots of snow.

“Up you get.” The woman is manhandling him, well, woman-handling him, and Isak let’s a pathetic giggle slip his lips as his body tries to stand up. His legs are shaking like a newborn lamb. Wobbling.

“Valtersen, you need to stand up. OK? Let’s get this coat on you and we will have you on your way.”

“Leave me alone.” He grunts and tries to reach down for the zip. He’s not even close. Fumbling with the fabric and then gagging as he catches a mouthful of the stench coming from his body. He smells of cheap Vodka. Sweat. Body odour strong enough to make a grown man cry. He is supposed to be a grown man, yet he doesn’t cry. He has no tears left anymore. None. He wasted them all crying over a man who would never love him back. Someone Isak invested his entire heart in. He was stupid.

He is still stupid. Isak Valtersen is barely human anymore and he doesn’t care as he blinks awkwardly into the dull morning light.

His hand reaches into his pocket and he huffs out a small sigh of relief as his fingers curl around the cold steel of his house keys. Home it is then. Home and hopefully a quick hard fall into the stupor of some mind-numbing liquid left in one of the many bottles that litter his sad excuse of an abode. A small studio flat crammed with his books and papers and all the things he used to be passionate about before he lost his mind. Before he realized that he was a lost cause. A pathetic excuse for a human being. A complete idiot. The one all his friend laughed behind his back about. Yeah, because apparently his blatant crush on his best friend was common knowledge, whilst the said best friend happily shagged himself around the fine female population of the city of Oslo.

It has been months since he last saw Even. Months. Not that he hasn’t spoken to him, because he rings him almost every night. Slurs some idiotic drivel down the line until Even hangs up on him with that sigh he does. Some nights Even tries to talk him down. Some nights he just shouts at him. Sometimes Even puts on that kind voice where he almost has Isak whinging with longing against the receiver of his phone.

Yeah fuck. He’s lost his phone. His hands patting down the thick jacket in awkward movements hoping to feel the familiar shape of metal around his fingers, but no. Fuck.

Not that he has any money to get another one because he has spent most of his meagre income on booze and shit drugs that he sometimes treats himself to when his head is too dark for the alcohol to numb him out.

Because Isak is weak. He is weak and broken and dumb. So fucking dumb.

At least he still has his flat for another week, he thinks. To be honest he has lost track of time. Of days and months and due dates and the harsh letters that come through his letter box. I mean who gets mail anyway these days? Isn’t everything done online? Not that Isak checks his email either, because his inbox is full of work assignments that are so overdue that it makes his head spin. Not that he answers his phone either when his boss tries to ring. Because it’s too much. Everything is too much.

 

_“I hate that you live here Isak”, Even used to say, throwing his arm around Isak’s shoulders, whilst Isak would be torn between leaning into Even’s drunken affection, whilst his brain was screaming out in self preservation._

_“I like it here”, Isak would lie. “It’s cheap and handy for town and conveniently situated above the place with the cheapest beer in Oslo.” He would turn it into a joke, whilst knowing full well it wasn’t. It was all Isak could afford. All he had._

_“You should move in in the flat next door to me, then you could always be near me. We could like hang out all the time.” Even would slur in Isak’s ear whilst Isak’s laugh would echo with  hollowness._

_“We hang out all the time anyway, Even. It wouldn’t make any difference. And anyway I will never be able to afford a 2 bedroom penthouse in Frogner. It’s like not going to happen. Not all of us are the offspring of millionaires with bottomless trust funds.”_

_“Ouch”, Even would groan and mock grasp his chest. Look at Isak with fake disgust whilst his face struggled not to burst into a grin. “You wound me with your ill-informed judgemental comments Isak. Rub it in won’t you.”_

_“It’s true though. You are a spoilt trust fund brat, I am a stupid poor kid from the wrong side of town. We have nothing in common Even. Nothing.” Isak said it all the time. He had always wondered too, what it was that made the two of them click. Why they fit like a jigsaw, when in reality they were too different. When should never even have met. Yet they had, and Isak still shivers when he thinks back to that evening. What if he had been too late? What if he hadn’t seen him? What if he had just walked past, and not stopped?_

_“You are the foam in my latte. The chocolate in my milk.” Even would slur and wrap himself around Isak’s shoulders whilst Isak dug deep in his pocket for his set of keys._

_“And you, are the ring on my keyring. The Baz in my Luhrman. The fucking Bruce in my Die Hard.”_

_“You can’t have Bruce, and Die Hard in the same sentence as Baz Luhrmann. That is like a sin of epic proportions Isak. Honestly. Die Hard?”_

_“It’s an eighties classic, Even. But you wouldn't know because you only watch pretentious crap in foreign languages that nobody understands.” Isak would mutter under his breath whilst Even would press hard against him. His head leaning on Isak’s shoulder._

_“That is why you are my best friend, Isak. Because you tell me the truth. You are honest. You love me for my stupid ideas, and sit through my silly movies, you let me talk for hours about nothing, and you are still here. I love you because you are you. And you let me be me. And I wish you were always with me.”_

_It’s the alcohol talking, Isak knows that. And Even speaks the truth, he always does. It’s Isak who is the idiot here, because he is not honest at all. He never was._

 

He lets his eyes blink in surprise when he stops outside where he lives, squinting at the lack of the now familiar eviction notice on his door. Someone has ripped it down no doubt. Or maybe some well-wisher has paid his rent. He grins like an idiot. Yeah right.

Not only that but the door falls open before he even sticks his key in the lock, making Isak stumble backwards in sheer surprise.

“There you are”, the familiar voice says. He doesn’t even sound angry. Well, maybe a little bit of sarcasm dripping in the tone of voice, but it’s him. Of course, it’s him.

“Why are you here?” Isak grunts. He wants to hug him. He wants to fucking slap that smug grin of his face. He wants to cry. He does neither and reminds himself that he is not human anymore. Because if he was human he would have some kind of guilt over what he has made of the once promising life of Isak Valtersen. He would be churned up with embarrassment over the state of his bank account, his flat, his body and his mind. He would be ashamed. Isak Valtersen is neither. He is just numb. Dulled out from too much rubbish still in his abused system.

Even doesn’t reply, just grabs Isak’s arm and pulls him over the threshold, only to recoil in disgust over the obvious stench of him.

“Babe.” He whines.

“Not your problem, remember?” Isak almost shouts and tries to push past him. He is none of Even’s concern anymore, Even has reminded him so often that it has almost become a mantra. He is not Even’s responsibility. Even can barely look after himself, let alone deal with Isak. Especially when Even is in a relationship with someone else and needs to focus on keeping his own life stable enough to function. Especially when Isak is unwell and needs help. Help that Even has provided, again and again and again. Isak tends to push those thoughts well out of his mind. He kind of remembers and it usually makes him cringe. The meetings he refuses to go to. The rehab centre that Even paid for, when Isak refused to go. The time he was forced to go and left after a week. The time Even found him and drove him back there. Isak had left in a taxi an hour later. He doesn’t want to remember. It’s just too painful to realize that he is the one at fault here. That everything Even says is true.

Right now, not making it seems the most comforting way out. Rather than this. Having Even here looking at him like this. His face etched with sadness and grief, like he has already lost him. And suddenly he can almost picture it, Even’s face when this will finally be over. When Isak will have lost the final part of him that still makes him human and Even will draw a breath of relief that he is finally free of the burden that is Isak. Because Isak knows that is how this will end, because he will lose it all one day.

He already lost Even, and the only thing left is that tiny little thing called life. And to be honest, right now, his life is barely there.

  


 


	4. Now

It’s so easy to slip into it, the rose tinted version of life that always accompanies the presence of Even in what remains of the life of Isak Valtersen.

 

Even when they were younger, as in younger and even more stupid than now, well, Isak cracks a weak smile under the stream of water pouring over his head, because Isak was always dumb, and he can’t make up his mind whether he has gotten dumber or if he has always just been this stupid. The younger more careless version of Isak, the one who met Even all those years ago, was a fragile bundle of anger and nerves. He knows he was unhappy, so unhappy and scared, and Even took all that away. Maybe that is why he grew so attached to the man that is making a fucking racket out in his living room whilst demanding that Isak shower. He had pretty much ripped Isak’s clothes off, stuffing everything torn from his body in a black rubbish sack whilst the determined look on his face didn’t hide the disgust underneath the sternness of his mouth. 

 

“Stay under the spray until I come and get you, and for God’s sake Isak, use shampoo. There is a bottle right there.“ He had sounded pissed off again. Disappointed. Yeah, what’s new. Isak is hardly a ray of sunshine to be around, and disappointment is kind of his middle name.

 

So, he stands here like a scolded child, like he is waiting for his mother to come and tell him to get out. He shivers at the thoughts clouding his muddled brain. Distant memories of his mother’s stern voice, her firm hands holding him down, scrubbing his skin until it was red and raw on his body. He does it to himself now as an adult. Scrubs the invisible sins from his skin whilst laughing as at his gullible self. He is weak and stupid, and he wonders why he lets Even have such a hold of him. How Even can say jump and Isak just stands there and questions how high?

It used to be love, because wherever Even was the sun shone brighter and the sky was bluer and Isak’s life was miraculously full of colour. Life without Even became a haze of black and white. Of days that ran into darkness and back to light without any grasp of time and space. He can’t even remember when he lost him. When his life spiralled so irrevocably out of control.

“Babe, come on.” Even’s voice is soft like velvet, as he sniffs a towel from the rack and throws it out in the hallway whilst he wrinkles his nose up like he does when something smells bad. And for an unguarded moment Isak’s body fills with warmth and affection for the man in the stupid rock-band tour t-shirt (Isak’s first concert ever, Even took him on his birthday and Isak silently cried during the encore) and the ripped jeans (the rip on the hip still making Isak smile. A fishing hook and a bad attempt at teaching Isak to fish, too long ago too remember.) who is standing there in his bathroom, holding the towel out for him to step into. Then his breath hitches, because he shouldn’t think like that. He has no right to.

Yet Even disappears out the door and returns holding another towel, one that has obviously passed his sniffing test,  letting his arms wrap around Isak’s body as he carefully blots the water from his skin. Inch by inch, drying the matted skin covering his bones.

“When did you last eat, Isak?” he questions, his voice loaded with either anger or concern. Isak can’t really tell. He used to be able to read him so well, this man who held Isak’s heart in his hands for so long. Far too long. He held his heart and his soul in those long tender fingers until he held on too tight and squashed him. Until Isak broke. Because he can’t see how he can ever piece himself back together again, this splintered shell of a human whose knees seem to buckle under the weight of him.

“I eat plenty”, Isak hisses. Lies. Always lies.

“When did you last use?” Even doesn’t even sound angry. Just resigned.

“Fuck off.”

“Truth, Isak. Please tell me the truth. I can’t bear it when you lie to me.”

“Yeah, because you are so fucking awesome when I tell the truth.”

“You can’t keep throwing that in my face forever, Isak.”

“Couple of grammes and a Benzo last night. Stupid shit. Vodka probably. I don’t really remember.”

It’s tiring standing up. Draining using words. Exhausting admitting the truth.

“Whoohaa”, Even shushes and catches him in his arms. Holds him carefully in his embrace, like Isak is a baby bird falling out of his nest. He almost smiles again, delirious with the messy thoughts clouding his brain. He’s got him. He always does, always catches Isak when he falls, just like Isak used to catch Even. Hold him against his body just like this, the familiar shapes of collarbones and shoulders against his hollow cheeks.

His head is swimming. There is too much Even here. Too much false safety. Too much at risk. It’s almost like Isak could let himself believe that this was real, that he won’t wake up any second and find himself back on a cold steel stretcher in a police cell. Or even worse in a doorway somewhere where his disorientated brain will struggle to remember who he is. Or who he used to be.

“I’ve packed up most of your things, just a few bits to sort out and clean.“

Isak just nods.

“I’m sorry I let it get this bad.” Even’s voice is barely there.

“Not your problem.” Isak huffs.  He can barely get the words out.

“You are always my problem. You know that, don’t you?”

“You have a strange way of showing it.”

It sounds like a joke, but it’s a shit one. And Isak is too weak to laugh.

“Let’s get you dressed.”

“Sleep.” Isak whispers.

“As soon as we get there, babe.”

“Where are we going?” Isak doesn’t care. He honestly doesn’t. Just make it stop. Just make everything go away.

“You will laugh.” Even actually sounds amused.

“Do it look like I am smiling?” Isak snarls.

“Grumpy pants.” Even says and places a kiss on Isak’s forehead.

 

Isak doesn’t remember when Even became so tall. Or when Isak shrunk. Or maybe it’s the fact that Isak is still sagging against Even’s chest. He wishes he could speak up. Say enough. Ask Even to leave. To get out of his head or his flat or wherever he is and leave him to just self-destruct.

“Kristina hates me. She will get cross with you for being here.” He blurts out. She will. She always looked at him like he was a piece of dirt under her shoe or something.

“Isak, Kristina left me months ago, in the middle of my last episode. The one that put me in hospital. They tried to call you. I tried to call you. “

“You only call me when you need me. You don’t give a fuck about me the rest of the time.” Isak can’t believe he finally says it out loud.

“Isak…” Even starts but Isak pushes him away. Stands on his wobbly legs and has to steady himself against the wall before slowly sinking to his knees. Right there on the dirty floor in his messed-up hallway. 

“I had to let you hit rock bottom.’’ Even continues. ‘’ Just look at you, you are too weak to protest. I had to let you sink so I could help you swim.”

“Fucking hate swimming”, Isak mutters. Nothing makes sense. Nothing at all. 

 

_ “My feet are cold” Even had whispered, that first night of terror when depression had taken over his mind and his mouth was spitting out loaded words, one after another tumbling out in a train of thought that made no sense at all. Isak had never been so frightened in his life, and Isak had known terror. But even in Isak’s darkest moments, nothing was as dark as the place where Even’s mind was caught.  _

_ “Let me get you some socks.” He had said, in a childish attempt to help. “Let’s get you warm, get your toes nice and toasty.”  _

_ “Socks”, Even had muttered, and for a tiny fraction of time there was a hint of a smile on his lips.  _

_ “Happy socks.” Isak had rambled on. ”They’re magic.You put them on and all your worries seep into your feet.” _

_ “You’re full of shit, Isak.” _

_ “I am indeed. I’m the shit in your shit-eating grin dude.” _

_ “You’re the shit in my toilet.” _

_ “I’m the shit. Full stop.” _

_ “Magic fucking socks.”  _

_ “It’s true. I’m the fucking Master of magic socks.” _

 

He hadn’t noticed, which is no surprise since Isak doesn’t notice shit these days, but Even is wearing socks. The pink ones with frogs, one of many pairs Isak has lured Even in with over the years. He would pick them up whenever a pair would catch his eye, keeping them in his coat pocket incase he would need them. There would always be a time, a moment when Even’s eyes would cloud over and Isak would stroke his cheek, and let his lips kiss the soft hair on the top of Even’s head. 

“They’re magic”, he would whisper as he would drop to his knees on the floor and stretch the fabric with his fist. Rub them gently between his hands whilst Even would stare at him like he would. Half in awe at the ridiculousness of the two of them, half in gratitude that Isak always understood. That he knew how to make things better. That a pair of ridiculous socks carefully threaded on to his bare feet could bring him a little glimmer of hope. A second or two of calm. Warmth in his chest. 

“You’re wearing magic socks”, Isak says quietly. 

“It’s hard without you.” Even replies, his eyes piercing. They’re so fucking blue, still blue enough to make Isak’s heart jolt.

“They're not magic”, Isak whispers. 

“Bullshit.” 

Even takes them off, carefully rolling them off his own ankles, one by one, before leaning over and letting his hands lift Isak’s heels off the floor. Angling the legs slightly as he threads the ridiculous socks, still warm and a little damp from Even, over his feet, then placing his socked limbs carefully down on his lap. His hands don’t let go, holding on to his ankles, his eyes lingering just long enough to notice the random bruises on Isak’s far too skinny legs.

 

“They’re Happy-socks.” Even says with almost childlike conviction. “Magic. See? All your worries just fall down in your feet.” 

 

It would be ridiculous if it wasn’t Even. Because Even is just like this. Quirky and stupid and ridiculous. The things Isak always loved about him. 

“I missed you so much”, Isak’s mouth blurts out. 

“Then let’s never get like this ever again.” Even replies. 

“I can’t. It hurts too much. You hurt me. You hurt too much.”

“I know. I messed us both up.”

“No Even, I messed myself up all on my own. But I can’t go back to what we were. I can’t. I just can’t.”

 

There is silence. It's so fucking quiet. Drawn out minutes where Even strokes Isak's feet and Isak just can't focus. 

 

“I know, that’s why we are leaving.'' Even finally says. He keeps looking down, almost like he can't bear it. The pain in his eyes. The apathy in Isak's.

''You and I. We are going to do this right for once. You and me. Nobody else. Just you and me, Isak. We are going to get better. It might be hard, no, fuck that, it’s going to be the fucking hardest thing you and I have ever done, but we are doing it.”

“I can’t. I can’t bear it. I can’t let you hurt me again.” Isak is crying. He doesn’t know where the tears are coming from. He can’t do this again. Never. Please.

 

But Even just sits there, opposite him on the floor. Reaches out and slowly strokes the fingers on his hand. Small firm movements. Up and down.

 

“I never realized, Isak, and you have to believe me. It was Kristina who spelled it out to me the day she left. She told me that she couldn’t be in a relationship with someone who was already so consumed by someone else. That she would always come second. That I was obsessed with saving you when I couldn’t even save myself. And she was right, Isak. I have tried to save you from the first day I met you. I have saved you through the good, and you saved me right back through the bad, and I didn’t get it. I never understood why, but I finally figured It out.”

“You don’t know shit!” Isak wails. His head pounding. Everything hurts.

“I do. I fucking know shit.” Even says back.

“Then why did you let me go? Why did you let me become…” He snorts, his chest too constricted to get the words out. It’s too much. Too soon. Too fast. When he has so little left.

“I was a fucking idiot.” Even says, tugging at Isak’s arms. “Which is why this stops right now.”


	5. Truths

He wakes up letting the prickly rays of sunshine through the blind play over his face. He’s warm. Warm and comfortable despite the roar of the wind outside the draughty windows. His lips reluctantly smiling at the memory of Even unpacking the car. The packs of blankets. One after another as Isak sat shivering on the wooden steps to the cabin. He is grateful now, with the weight of a dozen blankets covering his wrecked body.

Those first couple of days had been a blur. A misty haze of black and white, of waking in the middle of the night and sleeping throughout the day only to wake up and find Even right there, with his glasses perched low on his nose, and the checked shirt he seemed to live in wrinkled and opened low at the neck as he tapped away on the laptop in front of him.

Daytime seemed to blur into night-time more times than he could remember. Even fed him food. Carefully dosed spoonsful of medication that he struggled to keep down. He was sick. He was sick a lot. Vomiting up the tiny portions of food he tried to keep down.

There was a doctor that came out, no doubt paid for by Even and his seemingly endless pot of guilt money. Or kindness money. Isak pushed it out of his mind and fell back asleep.

It took a week until he realized where he was. That the bed he kept waking up in was in the back bedroom in Jonas’ cabin. A place of safety. A place he had loved coming to as a child, where the views were still a familiar comfort of some kind, the rocks and the trees strangely soothing his confusion. The sea still rumbling towards the beach below, like nothing had changed. Like there hadn’t been years lost to something Isak can’t explain.

He stumbles out in the lounge, wearing a blanket like robe, like some deranged king entering his palace. Only this palace is still an odd remnant from a bygone era when deep green boxy furniture was the height of sophistication and embroidered frames on the walls were still a thing. Nothing has changed. It almost makes Isak cry with relief. Or maybe it is the fact that Even walks out from the kitchen carrying a steaming cup of something hot and wet.

“Camomile?” Isak croaks out. It usually is.

“Lemon and ginger today, babe.” Even smiles and puts the cup on the rickety coffee table before wrapping Isak up in a hug. A warm long all-consuming hug where Isak’s head rests comfortably on Even’s shoulder. Where the world stands still for a little while. Where the world around Isak floats in warm colours. Wooden reds and oranges and greens flickering under his closed eyelids.

“No coffee?” Isak questions.  
“Nope. Not yet. We don’t want to mess with your stomach. It’s been behaving now for a few days. Let’s see how we go with this first.“

And Isak nods. Accepts the cup that Even carefully places in his hands.

“I’m not leaving you. I’m right here,” he says, looking at Isak the way he used to. The warmth flickering in the blues of his eyes, making Isak look away. It’s too intense. To much. Too fragile for Isak’s thoughts to wrap themselves around.

“I’m scared”, Isak’s mouth says before his brain can engage.

“I know.” Even lets his finger stroke a wayward curl from Isak’s forehead. “But I am not leaving. We stay here together until we are OK. Jonas said nobody needs the cabin until June, we have months. We can stay as long as we need to.”  
“But….”  
Isak closes his eyes. He hasn’t dared to think. He has pushed everything so far away that he can barely remember his own name.

“Your flat is gone. I paid the outstanding rent and let it go. You won’t need it again.”

“Fuck Even.” Isak sinks down on the sofa, the green suddenly hurting his eyes. “Not your decision to make.” he hisses.  
“Isak. You were unhappy there, so unhappy that it almost killed you.”  
“I still need a place to live, I can’t stay in a fucking cabin for the rest of my life?” He’s being unreasonable, and he knows it. That and his head is hurting. His head is always hurting. Hurt is good. It reminds him that he is still alive. It reminds him of the mess he has made. Everything hurts.

“Listen.” Even sinks down next to him and removes the cup from his hands. The cup he hasn’t even taken a sip out of. “You might be too pig-headed to see it right now, but for a little while, please, Isak, please let me take care of you. Please let me help you, because we can do this. We can’t fix what we broke. We can’t turn back time and change what you and I were, or what we became. But, Isak, Isak?” he reaches up and tips Isak’s chin up. Makes him look right at him. Into the eyes that are still the bluest of blue. Where the skin underneath is matted grey from lack of sleep. Where the small crow’s feet around his eyes carry his worries. Where the hair around his face is too long and were the words Isak needs to hear keep tumbling out. “We can start over now. Just you and me. Nobody else, because I was fucking distraught without you. I don’t function without you. I just don’t. I mess up, repeatedly, and I miss you every single day when you’re not with me.”  
“I was never with you, Even”, he snarls. He needs to stop this. He needs to stop being so angry.  
“Yes, you were. You were always with me.”  
“Not the way I wanted to. You can’t fix that bit, the bit where I loved you so much it destroyed me.”  
“I’m sorry.” 

Those words are worthless. They mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. Isak has heard them coming out of Even’s mouth more times than he cares to remember. It means absolutely nothing and Isak is angry. He is so fucking angry. Mostly at himself. Mostly at his life. His choices. His own fucking stupidity.

“Don’t fucking apologize. Don’t you dare apologize for what you did like it was something stupid. It wasn't. I laid myself bare for you, and told you my absolute truth. I told you I loved you, that I wanted you, that you were the only person I trusted enough to ever be with and you rejected me. I begged you to let me be someone to you and you told me to leave. You said you would never feel that way about me and that you weren't into men. You said you could never be with me, or make me happy. You said that to my face when all I wanted was for you to love me. I didn't care how or when or why, you could have just hugged me, Even. You could have loved me enough to care how I felt. Instead you told me to leave. You fucking threw me out.“

“I know, and don’t you think I have spent years regretting that, Isak? But you lied Isak. You constantly lied. Tall stories of girls and hookups and kisses and bodies and I knew it was all lies. You lied so much that when you finally told the truth I didn't know if I could believe in you anymore. Do you know how fucking stupid I felt after you left that day? How I wish that I could have been stronger? Braver? More honest? I should have held onto you, run after you and dragged your sorry love-starved desperate arse back into my life. I should have looked after you better, because I knew. I always knew you loved me and I was stupid and selfish and I loved the attention. I loved that you adored me, it massaged my fucked up ego no end.”

“You bragged about it to your fucking girlfriends Even! You made me feel really stupid. So fucking stupid. Small. Worthless. Everything you knew I didn't need to feel. You knew where I came from and you still crushed me.“  
“Because I was stupid and spoilt. I thought I could have it all. Girls and you. Sex and Love. I thought if I just kept you, and kept going, as long as you still loved me everything would be fine.”  
“It wasn’t fine. It was nowhere near fine.”  
“I know that now. I hurt you. I know I hurt you and I took advantage of you. I only did it because I needed you. Because not having you was worse than death. I realized that too late. I realized and you were already gone.”

It’s frightening to hear Even shout. To realize he’s as wound up as Isak. His body sprung tight like a spring ready to snap. 

“You never loved me though. You never loved me like I loved you.”  
“It doesn’t mean that I didn’t love you. I did. “  
“I loved you. I loved you so much that I lost you.”  
“What about the part where you loved me so much that I fell in love with you back?”  
“That sounds like some fucked up fairy-tale, Even.”

He laughs. It’s somehow so good to hear him laugh. Like the world sparkles a little again, just clusters of stars, glittering, lifting the heaviness in the air.

“It’s true though. I did. I’ve always loved you right back. I’ve loved you for quite a while you know.“  
“Then….” Isak doesn’t know what to say. “How did you expect that to work, Even?”  
“Us, you mean?”  
“Yeah, I mean love is one thing. Us getting married and skipping hand in hand into the sunset is a whole different ball game.” 

Isak can’t help it but his mouth is kind of twisting into a grin. An impossible feat these days, it seems.

“Well, I haven’t proposed yet if that is what you are implying”, Even sasses back and the laughter makes Isak’s chest warm. Like it soothes something. Calms him.

“You are full of shit, Even Bech Næsheim.”  
“Yep. I always was. But it’s good shit. Now drink your fucking tea before it goes colder than a nun’s fanny.”

Well, that makes Isak snort as he sinks back against the backrest. The sofa is honestly shite. Whoever designed it deserves a prison sentence or worse. And Even is so full of shit.

“So, what is your big masterplan, Næsheim?” Isak tries to sound OK. Like he is. When he might not be at all.  
“My big masterplan?” 

Even leans over and reaches out. The tips of his fingers stroking gently over Isak’s cheeks. The cheeks that are still too thin, the skin that is slowly regaining a little colour.

“Where is my stuff?” Isak deflects. Because the air is still a little too heavy. His thoughts a little cloudy again.  
“Jonas and Magnus have brought everything over to mine. Don’t worry about it. They threw away most of your clothes, and the bloody bed. The rest is waiting for you at home.“  
“Thank you.” Isak almost whispers. Not that he thought he cared. He can’t see himself picking up the pieces of what might remain of his career. He can’t even think the next couple of days. Nor can he see beyond the next hour, to be honest.  
“When we leave here, you are coming home with me. I want you to live with me. If you want to we can look for somewhere new to live, start over from scratch if you like. I have found an addiction therapist willing to see you, because we need to put a solid plan in place to get us both better. And Dr Vasquez will continue treating….”  
“Even, I can’t live with you.”  
“Yes, you can.”  
“Fuck off. What happens when you move your next girlfriend in? Where the hell do I go then? We will be right back to square one and I will be….”

The words stop right there because Even’s mouth is right on top of his, pressed hard against his lips for the longest time. His eyes pinned on the terrified look in Isak’s eyes.  
When he finally lets go Isak is too stunned to speak.

“I told you, I love you. I love you more than you will ever know, and I am never letting us get like this again. Trust me, Isak Valtersen. I need you more than you need me, but I am doing this. I am fixing us.”  
“You can’t just fix us.” Isak says weakly, but he doesn’t sound convinced. Because Even leans in and kisses him again, this time softer. Warm lips against his own, followed by hands around his face.  
“I can, and I will”, Even replies.

And Isak wants to believe him. He wants to. Life just isn’t that simple. It never was, and it never will be.


	6. Axis

It doesn’t last, of course it doesn’t. Isak wakes up to the familiar feel of Even curled into a ball next to him. He tumbled head first into a low with no warning, almost like the last couple of weeks saving Isak had been a period of uncoordinated mania, when Isak knows full well it wasn’t. This is just Even’s body giving up. His mind saying stop. His whole being screaming for a break.

And to be honest Isak is relieved, because now the world is shifting on is axis back to the way the two of them have always been the most comfortable. Even trying to heal whilst Isak holds him together.

They are honest now, and it’s like the world has exploded into a foray of colour. They play games at night, asking questions and demanding truths. The only rules are that they must answer honestly, and whatever the answer, they don’t let go of the ridiculous embrace they always find themselves in. Even’s head tight against Isak’s chest. Isak’s chest that is finally regaining a tiny bit of softness, and his arms that are relearning their strength to hold onto the man Even has become. Because Even is strong. He is the fucking strongest person Isak knows.

He eats. He feeds Even. He has taken over Even’s role, nagging them both out of bed for their daily walk in along the water, where Even holds his hand like a child, and Isak feels his heart tighten with every step. He always dreamt of walking with Even like this, like they were a force. A solidness. Together.

It’s still frail, but the way Even sometimes let’s go of Isak’s hand and instead throws his arm around his shoulders, walking with their hips bumping randomly as they try to find a pace. Where Isak’s hand finds a new favourite place tucked in the back pocket of Even’s jeans. It still grounds Isak. Makes him feel like maybe somehow there is hope. A light at the end of the strange tunnel they find themselves stuck in.

Dr Vasquez starts to come and visit, taking Isak’s blood and writing out a prescription for vitamins and irons. His body is still a mess, but he will make it. This time. There is warning in her voice before she grabs his body and tries to squeeze the last of life out of him, just as she used to when he was a child. She is still Jonas’ mum first and Isak’s doctor second.

She says she speaks to Even every day, which Isak didn’t know. How the fuck didn’t he know? She also knows about most things, and discreetly hands him a piece of paper. The letters dance before Isak’s eyes, shame burning in his cheeks. Of course. He hasn’t been careful. He didn’t value his life or make good choices for a long time. He doesn’t understand how fate let him get away with it because his HIV test is clear and there are no signs of any other sexually transmitted diseases, and the chlamydia he picked up is now out of his system.

She says Even is the glue that keeps him together and that he needs to remember that.

Isak wants to shout: ‘What the hell does she know about anything?’

But he knows she is right and that Even, in all his messed-up state on the sofa, curled up with too many blankets over his lanky body, his feet clad in a new pair of soft yellow socks, is his truth.

There are no two ways about it, they had both agreed. Even is the glue that keeps Isak in one piece, and Isak is the cream in Even’s sponge cake. The pickle in his burger, the ketchup on his hotdog. The T in his tea. There are hundreds more of these little truths, conjured up amongst laughter during the dark hours of the night when thoughts become harder to bear. They have survived them, together. The cheese in each other’s sandwiches, the cinnamon in the other’s bun.

Honest. The word still scares Isak, but he is honest now. It doesn’t hurt as much as it did at the start, and he is kind of looking forwards to the therapy sessions Even talks about. The truth will hurt, but if Isak can start to make sense of the thoughts in his head, the dark memories. The choices and the words. Then maybe, he can become a better person, and then maybe he can learn to love himself. Because Even says he does. He tells Isak he loves him, every single day.

Sometimes Isak shakes it off in sheer embarrassment at the words tumbling so easily out of Even’s mouth, the easy affection that Isak still struggles to return. Sometimes he bathes in the warmth of feeling safe, if only for a fleeting second or two.

He asks Even one night, when they are tangled up in the dark. He says the words, the last of his honesty.

“What will you do when the urge becomes to strong? When the girl comes along, and temptation is there? You keep telling me you love me, but I am not giving you what you need. You have always been such a sexual being, you love sex. You always told me it makes you feel alive, and the way a woman’s body completed your own. “

The seconds until Even speaks feel like hours.

“I was always full of shit, Isak.”  
“I know you were. You still are.”

The laughter makes the bed wobble. Soft bounces of the mattress as Even rises and crawls on top of Isak. Straddles him and grabs his wrists, pinning them gently over his head.

“I will always need sex, and so will you. It’s human nature, a mating ritual that we are hardwired to complete. It doesn’t matter that you and I can’t….well… ‘mate’.” His face twists with awkwardness in the dull light from outside. Spring is bursting into summer, and the nights are lighter than Isak remembers.

“But there has to be attraction, Even. I’m gay. I have always been gay. And I have always wanted you. Every little piece of you. Your love, your approval, your affection, and your cock.”

That makes Even snort. It’s good. It makes the air lighter to breathe when they can laugh.

“Isak, I don’t care that you are gay. I don’t care what body parts are attached to your body. You are what I care about, and you have always been the one that made me happy. Really truly happy.”  
“Then why?” Isak retaliates. “Why Even?”

He doesn’t really know what he is asking, there are just too many why’s and not enough answers.

“Why what?” Even questions. “You mean how? How two men have sex? There are great educational video clips online I can show you. Maybe draw you a diagram?”

Isak can see the dimples popping in Even’s cheeks. The cheeky look on his face. They way his eyes crinkle at the sides when he smiles like he’s smiling right now.

“I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do just because you think I want it.”  
“Then you don’t know me very well, babe.”  
“Then, what do you want Even?”

It’s a frightening question, where the answer could once again tilt Isak’s carefully balanced world off its fragile axis.

“I want you. I want to be everything to you, like you are everything to me”, he replies softly, the light glittering in the white of his eyes.

Even leaves it like that, a million unspoken questions and truths left hanging in mid air, and instead presses his lips against Isak’s mouth. The clumsiest of kisses that still makes his body burn. Heat spreading over his cheeks as his fingers tangle in Even’s hair.

They kiss. Kiss for what seems like hours, whilst clothes become unnecessary and blankets deemed too hot. Where Isak’s body betrays him, his groin pulsing with desire when he should know better. Remember to control himself. Mouths against necks and hands stroking bare skin until Isak is rocking with need, his hard cock strangled in his briefs, humping carelessly against Even’s leg.

“It’s OK, babe”, Even whispers. “Take what you need. Use me. Let me help you.”

There is nothing Isak can say. No words coming out of his mouth. Just his eyes squinted shut in desperation, his lips on skin and drool on Even’s chest as he crawls and huffs and Even’s hand is on the inside of the elastic and there are fingers on his cock. Soft tentative movements. Strokes more like a caress, whilst Isak whines with need.

“Show me. Show me what you need.” Even begs, whilst his mouth is open, his expression full of awe.

“Just hold me”, Isak pants and Even knows. He always knows what to do. Even now when Isak doesn't even know what it is he needs himself, Even wraps his legs around him, his hands kneading Isak’s back, as Isak ruts helplessly, his hips rocking. Fingernails scratching skin. His cheeks blushing in anticipation of the fall. The embarrassment brewing alongside the desperate need to feel. To function. To maybe be a little human again.

“It’s OK, Isak, babe. Just come. Come for me. Let me help you.”

There are little squeals. Something that should sound like a moan but just comes out as a strangled cry. His breathing far too loud. His chest moving too fast.

“Come for me”, Even whispers, his lips over Isak’s mouth.

He doesn’t have to even try, he suddenly just falls. Deep and silent and steep, falling helplessly into the dark whilst Even kisses the orgasm right out of him. Lips on his lips as the stars twinkle under his scrunched up eyelids. Tongue in his mouth. Fingers stroking his cheeks, his nose, his chin. Soft words of comfort whilst Isak shivers and shakes and his face fills with blood. 

“Sorry.” he pants out when his body comes back to life. When his rushing heartbeat is making his blood roar in his ears and his hands are shaking, still grasping onto Even’s skin.   
“Not sorry.” Even whispers. “That was stunning. Gorgeous. Fuck, Isak you are beautiful when you come.”

There is silence. Awkward silence whilst Isak tries to get his brain back in gear. Think. Process. 

“Let me…” He starts and tries to rise up on his elbow, only for Even to pull him back down. His cheek firmly pressed back into he puddle of drool he left behind. Cheek on chest. Warmth against heartbeat.

“Not today. Not now. This is about you, and me giving you something you need.”

“But what about you?” Isak just stares at him, trying to read him. Make sense of all the signals he is sending when there are none. Just love. Pure love written all over his face.

“I got to give you this, I gave you a few seconds of pure heaven when everything you know is true just makes sense. It’s a beautiful thing watching someone orgasm. I love that. I love that I could give you that, and to me, Isak, that is what sex is all about. Giving and taking that few seconds of someone’s life, the seconds when you are truly all mine. Do you see what I mean?”

Isak nods when he really should be shaking his head. But he does know. He understands. And maybe it makes sense, like all the other nonsense that spills out of Even’s mouth. The impossible thoughts that inhabit his head. The crazy ideas. The wildness and uninhibitedness that turn into dust only to come alive again, magically evolved into something completely different. It’s all what Even is. And Isak loves him for it. Loves him for the quirky truths that make him who he is. And he suddenly sees it so clearly. Like the colours in the air explode as the sun makes its way over the horizon.

Maybe this is what life is supposed to be. Maybe there aren’t any stupid rules to follow. Maybe he should just let himself go and take Even’s hand and let himself just follow this smiling idiot on the bed next to him. Maybe he didn’t see it until now, but Even hasn’t changed. This has always been him.

Isak just needed to take his hand and be there. Be his pickle in his burger. The cardamom in his curry. The cheese on his toast.

“Come. Come sleep with me, babe”, Even whispers, holding his arms out, letting his fingers pat the skin on his chest. Guiding his head home until he is right back where he belongs.

And Isak lets go. Curls up in the safety of arms and kisses pressed against his skin.

Maybe he is human after all. Maybe it can all make sense. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe in a few hours when his body has had some rest.

“Sleep, babe”, Even whispers.

So, he does.


	7. Honest

A few months later the winter has turned to spring and the summer somehow came along. Days turned into months, and months became seasons. And somehow the world still turned. And Isak’s world is still full of colours. Things are not always black and white. The truths are not always easy to bear.

 

But there is a boy on the bridge. Well, the boy has grown into a man. A beautiful man who makes Isak’s heart sing. He always did, but these days it doesn’t frighten him like it used to. These days having Even in his life is what makes Isak’s life worth living. He’s the oxygen in Isak’s blood. The milk in his coffee. The man in his life. The keeper of his heart.

 

“Do you think it’s worth it?” the man says into thin air. 

 

Not that he is speaking to himself, he knows full well Isak is there, right next to him, leaning against the metal railing that is warm from having bathed all day in the summer sun. 

“I feel like my brain is made from jelly. It was intense. Good. But intense. I have a lot to think about.”

 

Even nods. He knows what it is like, spending an hour with a therapist, laying yourself bare. Confronting the truths. The good and the bad. 

 

“I got sick, and I will always have this illness.” Isak lets the words sit on his tongue, like he is trialling them. Tasting them. Seeing if they fit. If they make sense. He never thought of it like that, always blaming someone, something, anything, for what he became. 

 

“We are both fucked then.” Even laughs gently, his eyes twinkling and his dimples on show. 

 

“I’m an addict. I will always be an addict. I also have low self esteem and serious issues from my childhood, but on the good side, I have a best friend who loves me. And a therapist who thinks I’ll be fine.” He tries to make it light hearted when the sobs are stuck in his throat. 

 

“I’m a bipolar controlling confused fuckup who fell in love with the best person in the world. I stupidly live off my parents guilt money and have a job that doesn’t even pay enough to keep us in toilet rolls. But Isak, I’m happy. You make me happy. I think that makes everything worth it for me. But do I make you happy? Am I enough? Will this all be worth it in the end?”

“Do you like ice cream?” Isak smiles. Leaning into Even’s shoulder letting his head fall against his cheek.

“I love ice cream”, Even replies softly. 

“Do you want to come home with me and lie on the floor and eat ice cream? Listen to music that makes you feel? I just want to lie on the floor and feel something. Something that doesn't make my head hurt when I think about it.“

“Is there chocolate sauce involved in this Ice cream eating? And will we be eating it straight from the tub like some disgusting losers?”

“Yup. And we will be sharing a spoon.”

“You can be the spoon in my ice cream.”

“I already am.”

“Sounds perfect. Lead the way.” 

So Isak takes Even’s hand. And Even follows. 

 

“Even?” 

He looks up, and the sun is throwing sparkles in his hair whilst his eyes are questioning. The worries that always are there showing as Isak softly kisses his cheek. 

“I don’t know if it will all make sense. We don’t know what will happen tomorrow, or if anything is ever worth shit. But I know this makes sense. I know you and I make sense. I know that I love you, and I know you love me right back. That is enough. Right now that is more than enough. OK?”

“I’m happy”, he says again. 

And Isak smiles. “Me too.”

 

artwork by MarthaLucy aka Memine

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

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